


The Park Bench

by Lady_Therion



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Summer (2008)
Genre: Anyelle, F/M, Shelle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5807533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Therion/pseuds/Lady_Therion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet on Christmas Eve. Series of ficlet-ish ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Eve

* * *

 

 

It’s Christmas Eve.

Shaun sits alone on a cold park bench as he watches the children trim the tree near the middle of the square. He remembers a time when he and Daz trimmed that very same tree. He remembers that Katy was with them, even when her mum told her that she wasn’t to see him anymore.

He remembers a time when he wasn’t alone.

“Is this seat taken?”

A woman with dark curls and the bluest eyes appears at his side. For a moment, Shaun doesn’t think she’s speaking to him.

“No, g’head,” he says, sliding over.

“Thank you,” she says, sitting much closer than he expects. Her posh white overcoat touches his jacket. His cheeks flush; it’s got nothing to do with the cold. “My name’s Belle by the way.” She holds out a wee hand.

He takes it, noting her little pair of red mittens. For some reason, they make him smile — a real smile, like a breath of fresh air.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she says, leaning in like she’s telling him a secret. “Just moved here from Melbourne not two days ago, and I hate being alone this time of year.”

“Aye,” he says. “I know what you mean.”

Later that night, they wind up sipping eggnogs at the pub — neither of them feeling alone anymore.


	2. Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering what happened to these two since Christmas Eve.
> 
> I just couldn’t leave Shelle enough alone.

* * *

 

 

It’s the radio that wakes Shaun the following morning.

He lifts his head, trying to make sense of his surroundings in between a traffic report and a classic rock countdown. Winter sunlight filters through a high window. A heater gently rustles the ends of a curtain.

It’s the floral duvet that tips him off.

Shaun is not at home.

He is not alone in bed either.

Belle stirs next to him and he starts to panic because _what if he has done something completely irresponsible?_ As if sensing his mounting anxiety, Belle twists beneath the downy covers and buries her face into his shoulder. Shaun then realises with a vague sense of relief that they are still wearing their clothes from last night.

_Last night…_

Belle scrunches her nose as she says, “D’you mind turning that off? I don’t want to get up yet.” Then she burrows even further into him as if the space by his side had always belonged to her.

Shaun hits the off button without thinking, but that is because his mind is too crowded for thinking. He is caught up in the present, which is currently Christmas Day. He turns to Belle who, true to her word, continues dozing as if _she hasn’t turned his world on its head._

He wants to run. Because clearly there has been some cosmic mistake and he is just _too old_ to be this arseholed.

He wants to stay. Because it’s been too long since he last shared a bed with anyone, let alone a very kind stranger who is entirely too trusting for her own good.

He is close enough to her hair to know that it smells like honeysuckle and that distracts him long enough to let the memory of last night wash over him in waves.

He closes his eyes and beneath the undertow he sees…

_A pub that’s half full, but brimming with cheer. Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” plays dreamily from a record player behind the bar counter. It is the “merriest” Shaun has been during the holidays in a long while._

_“Got any plans for tomorrow?”_

_“Eh?”_

_Belle is on her third eggnog and is blushing so prettily that Shaun almost forgets that she’s asking him a question._

_He doesn’t quite know how to answer._

_Christmases were sparse and lonely affairs spent at home with Daz and Daniel. They happened infrequently because Daz wouldn’t bother with the holidays and Daniel would rather spend his time elsewhere._

_It’s during this time of the season where Shaun picks up his shifts at work. Because work was sometimes better than swallowing his personal failures._

_“No, no plans,” he says finally._

_“Great,” she says. “Care to show me around the city then? Maybe do some window shopping?”_

_He doesn’t think she’s being serious._

_She reaches for his hand. His mangled one. She likes **to touch.**_

_“C’mon, Shaun. You’re my only friend here.”_

_A tentative smile._

_“But we just met.”_

_“So?”_

_He discovers that Belle is **very** difficult to argue with, especially when she’s being cheeky. Or maybe he’s just too chuffed to argue very hard._

_The rest of the night passes in a brightly colored blur. There are multiple train rides to nowhere in particular, although neither of them mind. There are more cheery pubs and snowy streets and festive park squares to dive into, and then somehow, **somehow** towards the end of that whimsical tunnel, they make it back to Belle’s flat._

_“I’ll take this then.” Shaun nods to her sofa as she puts away their coats._

_“No need for that.” Belle yawns. She’s as knackered as he is. The clock on the mantle reads just after one. “The sofa’s rubbish. Come to bed?”_

_“Bed?”_

_“You know, the thing with four legs and pillows? And blankets, blankets too.”_

_She must be **daft.**_

_“But…we…”_

_She yanks him by the sleeve._

_“Don’t be a baby. I can keep my hands to myself. Like a proper lady.”_

“Are we still friends?”

Belle rubs her eyes before tilting her head up at him. Her voice is still husky from sleep.

“Why’d you ask that? Of course we are.”

“Well…do you sleep with all your friends then?”

She sputters and sits up and looks like she is about to have a square go at him before she realises that he's just being a tit. They were fewer and further in between, but Shaun could have his cheeky moments too.

“You little bugger.”

But she grins as she says it and throws her pillow at him for good measure. By the time he pulls it off his face, she is at the window peeking through the curtains. Their coats lie in tired heaps at her feet.  

“This is my first Christmas morning in my new home,” she says and something about the way she says it warms him up inside. As though _he’s_ the one who’s found a home.

But then again, he's probably as daft as she is.

_They are just friends after all…_

Belle stretches her arms above her head, the sleeves of her overlarge sweater taking over her small hands. And she has _such_ wee hands…

She turns to him then, like a veritable ray of light. And for a moment, he can’t speak because he realises that he is actually happy.

“So...,” she says, hands on her hips. “Got any plans for New Year’s?”


	3. New Year's Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New(ish) Year, everyone. Here’s to many more Shelle moments in 2016. Thank you for your lovely, lovely comments as always.
> 
> Let’s see how these two have been doing since Christmas, shall we?

* * *

 

 

“Sure you don’t want to come with us, Shaun?”

“Yeah, c’mon Shaun.”

This from Daniel and his girlfriend, Molly. They’re meeting with some mates to kill time at the pier. For a moment, Shaun wonders if they’re having a laugh. Just what would he _do_ hanging around a bunch of bloody teenagers all night?

“Already got plans,” says Shaun as he shuts off the telly.

“You can fold the laundry any time, auld man,” says Daniel.

“Oh, aye? And who else is gonnae do it if you don’t?”

Daniel answers with a mulish expression that reminds him so strongly of Daz that his throat tightens. He’s about to ask him what’s got his knickers up his arse when a realisation slams him in the gut: Daniel doesn’t want him to be alone.

They’d been getting on well enough since his da passed on. The good days came in fits and starts because they’re still both trying to understand how to fit into each other’s lives. Shaun certainly isn’t proud of many things in his life…but Daniel…Daniel was always one of his bright spots, good and unsullied.

Shaun isn’t sure how to put any of this into words — words that wouldn’t embarrass either of them. But before he can even try, there is a loud and insistent knock at the door.

Which reminds him that the doorbell needs fixing.

“Happy New Year, Shaun!”

Belle unfurls her little noisemaker in his face, which briefly touches the tip of his nose. She’s earlier than he expects, but that’s not what makes time freeze and his mouth go dry.  

Because it’s Belle all right, but it’s also Belle with bleeding _make-up_. All cherry lips, smoky eyes and a champagne-colored dress that leaves her legs and shoulders bare. He is torn between saying how gorgeous she looks and buttoning up her wide, open coat _because for godssake she’ll catch her death out in this baltic chill!_

Belle shifts from one stiletto to the other. It’s the first time Shaun has seen her so fidgety and then he realises it’s because everyone is staring.

“Hullo,” she says, giving a cheery little wave that diffuses the tension somewhat. _At least she thought to wear those mittens!_ “I’m Belle.”

Shaun finally closes his mouth, though it’s still difficult to string together a sentence because _Belle is just so blinding_. He turns over his shoulder and for some reason Daniel’s dour expression has turned into something irredeemably smug.

“Happy New Year. I’m Daniel. You, ah, Shaun’s date?”

“Yes!” says Belle.

“No!” says Shaun.

They glance at each other, reddening.

“They’re so cute,” Molly whispers to Daniel in the most absurdly non-discrete way. Daniel winks in agreement and all Shaun wants to do is crawl away somewhere, somewhere dark where no one could detect his _staggering embarrassment._

“Right,” says Daniel, slapping Shaun on the shoulder as he and Molly pass. “I’ll see you later then. Don’t get into too much trouble, eh?”

“We won’t,” says Belle as she stands aside to _hold onto Shaun’s arm_.

“You’ll bring him home early?”

Belle grins as she says, “I’ll try” and Shaun wonders why he hasn’t melted straight onto the floor.

*******

  
“You don’t like my dress?”

“No! That’s not...you look dead lovely.”  

They’re in a booth at the same pub the night they met on Christmas Eve. There’s a much bigger crowd this time, which makes it all the more difficult to hear one another over the clang and clamor of dancing and drinking. Every now and then someone would pass by to give them a look-see and Shaun can’t help squirming into his seat because he knows, _he bloody well knows_ , what they’re thinking.

_What is a biscuit-arsed bloke like that doing with such a classy bird?_

Shaun stares at the menu.

Belle would have none of his sulking, however, because she reaches out to brush her fingers over his knuckles. They are painted the same golden shade as her dress.

“You all right?” She says it so kindly that Shaun can’t help feeling worse. “If you don’t like it here, we can go somewhere else. Night’s still young.”

There is a countdown on a telly somewhere above the bar. It’s still an hour to midnight and Shaun wonders if he’ll spend another evening (or morning) at Belle’s little flat.

“No, no. Here’s fine. It’s just…”

Belle leans in until she’s close enough that he can see that glorious neck and collarbones. “What is it, love?”

He is tongue-tied at the endearment, but just as his brain recovers from shorting out, Belle’s mobile rings.

“It’s my mum,” says Belle.

“Everything all right?”

She grins. “Yeah, probably just wants to say hi. Probably wants ask if I found a boyfriend too.”

She winks as he swallows.

“I’ll take this outside. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Then she puts on her coat and heads out, but not before _pressing those sweet lips of hers to the scruff of his cheek._

*******

 

Shaun has been nursing his Guinness for nearly twenty minutes now. The second hand is drawing closer and closer to midnight and there's still no sign of Belle. He wants to check on her, but wonders if that would make him look needy and…possessive.

Shaun doesn’t know what to think any more.

Shaun wonders if he’s actually in shock.

“This seat taken?”

Shaun looks up and groans when he sees a teenage incarnation of Daz sit in front of him. True to form, the blighter steals across the table and downs his Guinness in nearly one go. _Of all the times to have a bloody **hallucination…**_

“You’re in your head too much,” says Daz, knocking at his temple. “What you need to do is head out there. Be with your girl.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“And I’m not your dead best friend.”

“Why are you even here?” asks Shaun.

“Because clearly, you still can’t do anything without my help.” Daz leans back and crosses his arms. “For feck’s sake, man. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped getting in your own way?”

A quiet fury stirs within Shaun. Not because he thinks that Daz — or at least the Daz that haunts the shadowy corners of his mind — is wrong, but because he knows he’s right.

“How are you doing?” Shaun knows that the Daz in front of him isn’t real, but he still wants to know.

Daz shrugs, then smirks. It’s been a long while since Shaun has seen that achingly familiar swagger. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Shaun.”

The bottom of Shaun’s gut drops out as understanding dawns.

_Daz. It doesn’t hurt anymore._

*******

 

There’s almost no one outside by the time Shaun goes looking for Belle. Everyone is rushing indoors to celebrate the last ten minutes of the year. He sees her silhouette near the alley of the next building and immediately Shaun tenses.

She is screaming at some blootered wanker who tries to grab the edge of her coat.

“Get your bloody hands off me!”

“Ooooh, bit of a feisty one.” The wanker laughs, then puckers up his face. “Why don’t you give us a little kiss? Just the one!”

A bright, pulsing red clouds Shaun’s vision.

Suddenly he is back in secondary, pounding his fist into the face of some sorry pillock over and over and over again.

He can’t think. He can’t feel. He can’t stop.

All he feels is anger.

In the midst of his inner maelstrom is a distant voice — a soft whisper grows into a high-pitched crescendo.

“Shaun! Shaun, stop! Stop it!”

Shaun pulls back into the present. He is sitting on the chest of a drunk in the middle of the street, his good hand bloody-knuckled and raised above his head. The sod moans and rolls off as Shaun struggles to his feet. Belle supports him with both his arms as he lurches to off the side.

“Shaun…Shaun look at me.”

He is afraid to look at her. He is afraid to look at her because she is going to look at him the same way everyone looks at him. Like he is _nothing_. Like he will _always_ be nothing.

“Belle…I’m sorry, I—”

Then, without warning, Belle kisses him.

Chastely at first. Then clumsily. Then with more…more. Until they are both panting and their breath turns into little white wisps in the cold night air. Until his back crashes into the brick wall of the alley. Until he can feel her hot tongue in the shell of his ear.

She is lithe, slender, all-consuming _want_. A bright and sparkling hurricane that swept into his grey and mundane life.

If only he could just _drown_ in her.

“Belle…Belle.” He gasps. “We can’t. I can’t. _Oh God_.”

It's a struggle to push her shoulders away. A sin, even.

But she holds fast.

“Shaun, I know I’ve only known you barely a week. And that I’ve probably done everything I could to chase you off. But Shaun…I bloody well _care_ about you. Do you hear me? You’re a good person.”    

No one has ever called him a good person.

She doesn’t know about Katy. She doesn’t know about Daz. She doesn’t know _what he’s done._

“No Belle. I’m not a good person.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, you don’t…”  

“You are a good person, Shaun.” She kisses him again. Fiercely. Her wee hands cradling his face. God, to be touched like this again…like he _means_ something to someone other than a disappointment. “You’re my favorite person here.”

He presses his nose against hers. “I’m the _only_ person you know here.”

She laughs and rests her forehead resting against his racing heart. “So what?”

He clutches her tighter, not knowing how he will let go.

 _Let’s be honest_ , he hears Daz say, _you were never really good at letting go. Lucky for me. Lucky for her, eh?_

Outside their small, snow-dusted and fragile world, the clock strikes midnight.

And a new year begins.


	4. Interlude 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a big ol’ squishy thank you to everyone who has either rec’d or nominated The Park Bench for the 2016 T.E.A. ballot. It really means a lot to a newcomer like me.
> 
> And now, for a brief interlude. This one takes a place just a few weeks after New Year’s.

* * *

 

 

The snow outside Shaun’s door reaches past his knees and shows no signs of ending. So Belle decides to stay the night.

“Oooh no you don’t,” she says, tugging on his sleeve when she sees him going for the shovel. “There’s no point in digging out the car now.”

Then she pulls him close, softening her reprimand by running her delicate fingers in wide swaths across his back. He presses his lips to her temple and breathes in deeply, the warmth and the woodland scent of her flooding his senses.  

“That’s better,” she croons, then coaxes him onto the sofa.

Despite its shabbiness, his sofa is much more sturdy than the pullout in Belle’s flat — and larger too, so the both of them could settle in comfortably at one end. Shaun reaches to throw a fleecy blanket over their legs and puts on an episode of _Eastenders_.

But Shaun isn’t watching the show. Instead, he watches Belle. Under the soft glow from the telly, her face is the picture of cat-like contentment. Beneath the blanket, his arm rests around her narrow waist. He squeezes her tightly to him, though he cannot seem to get close enough.

_He has fallen so, so deeply…_

Midway through a commercial, he nuzzles the tip of his nose into the sparse hairs of her milky white neck. He cannot help it. Soft kisses follow in a worshipful trail. Belle wriggles against him, her smile wide and playful as she tilts her head this way and that.

He hasn’t shaved in days because she once told him how much she liked his scruff. It seems to be paying off now, because her breathing starts to quicken and her wriggling becomes more fidgety and sweetly urgent. Especially when Shaun starts to follow his kisses with a hint of teeth and tongue.

In the short time they’ve known each other, the two of them have been cautious and careful — both unwilling to shatter the new and fragile tenderness between them. But in moments like this… _oh god_ , in moments like _this_ …

As Shaun nips along the delicate shell of her ear, Belle’s hand grasps his and traces it down the curve of her jeans. Shaun stiffens…in more than one way…when he feels her clumsily unbutton her fly so that she can press his fingers there. Shaun reaches in and draws small, shy circles on the lacy pattern of her knickers. Then releases a shaky breath as he gets nearer and nearer to that secret and heavenly place between her thighs.

_She is so beautiful…_

When he feels a dewy wetness there, all for him no less, he wonders if he hasn’t just died and gone to paradise.

“Mmm… _Shaun_ …”

“ _Belle_ …”

“It’s fucking brass monkeys outside.”

A loud banging at the door has them both jumping out of their skin. Minutes later, Daniel stomps in through the hallway, shaking the snow from his coat and boots. He sheds his gloves and hat onto the floor and waves a brisk greeting to Belle, who is trying very, _very_ hard not to laugh.

“Is dinner on the table?”  

Shaun all but collapses onto the sofa and groans, one arm thrown over his eyes.

This time Belle _does_ laugh and consoles him with a lingering kiss on the cheek. “My poor baby.”

Daniel leans against the wall, nonplussed. “What’s wrong with him?”  

“He’ll be all right,” Belle says cheerily. Though given what is going on in his trousers, Shaun very much doubts that. When Belle gets up, Shaun realises that she has somehow discretely fixed the button on her jeans. Then she gives him a wink and says, “C’mon, love. I’ll fix the two of you up with something nice.”


	5. Interlude 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who voted for The Park Bench for Best Shelle at the 2016 TEAs. I was all kinds of shocked, surprised and of course extremely humbled. You guys are the best. I honestly don’t have better words.

* * *

 

 

She teases him throughout dinner.

Not that Shaun minds. Especially not when her wee foot slides down his jeans. Or when her wee hand strokes his thigh, making him blush and bite his tongue. There’s no secret glance or cheeky smirk that gives her away either. No, his devious little Belle carries on as cheerily as ever, casting nary a wink as she works him up beneath the tablecloth.

“Shaun?”

“Eh?”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “I said pass the mash.”

Shaun reaches over, bowl in hand, convincing himself that he is _not_ disappointed when Belle’s wily limbs retreat. She can only remain polite for so long though: Shaun has learned very quickly how demanding Belle can be when she is _in a mood_. So it’s only a matter of time before he feels a feather light caress on his knee — a caress that begins to lose its innocence for every moment it lingers.

Christ, it was like they were both bloody teenagers again. Only this time Shaun could burst from the pure joy of it. And when her nimble fingers begin to undo his zipper, it’s all Shaun can do to not sputter in surprise. He settles for coughing — very loudly — into his napkin to withstand the shock.

Daniel sighs as he clears his plate. “Just go on and get a room already.”

Only then does Belle face Shaun, chin in hand and a little arch in her brow. “You heard the man.”

*******

 

The snow turns into rain by the time Belle and Shaun get the dishes out of the way — her washing and him drying.

Or rather, her washing and Shaun brushing her hair to one side so he can kiss the bare nape of her neck — a slow, wet and purposeful trail — with his arms clasped firmly around her waist. They sway back and forth as the wind howls madly outside and it’s their closeness to one another that makes him feel as though everything will turn out all right for them.

It terrifies Shaun more often than not. That he will say something, _do_ something to ruin the tender thing between them. Crush it in his clumsy, misshapen hand like dust. Like he did to everything else that was important to him: his mother’s trust, Kate’s expectations, even Daz’ admiration. He cannot bear to add Belle to his list of painful disappointments. He cannot bear failing her.

But…every time doubt begins to claw at his insides, every time he feels the heavy weight of inevitability…Belle finds a way to soothe all his quiet anger, his mute fear. Like now, when she turns to capture his all too eager mouth. Her still damp hands digging into his hair, running them feverishly through his scalp.

He presses her into the sink, the cups in the drying rack clinking together when he does so. She pries his lips open with her tongue and it’s not very long before Shaun is lost in a haze of delirious pleasure. It becomes too much, as his rapidly hardening cock can surely testify. He is electrified from the inside out.

“I’d like to go to bed now,” she whispers against the bridge of his nose, eyes shut as she pants for breath. “Please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

She all but drags him by the hand, laughing all the while as she leads him up the stairwell. There is a brief interlude where he tugs her against the wall, her back against framed pictures as he plunges into her sweet mouth once more. He loves her taste. Her sighs. The way she rolls her hips into his. He cannot have enough. He doesn’t think he’ll ever have enough again.

There’s another brief interlude in the hallway too, Belle giggling every time they bump into something — laundry baskets, a little side table. Conspicuously loud music plays from behind Daniel’s door and Shaun will have to remember to thank the little bugger for the courtesy.

When they finally, finally, make it Shaun’s bedroom…Belle breaks their kiss to bite her bottom lip, lush and red and swollen. There are probably all sorts of lip marks stamped across his face. Not that he cares. Not one little bit. Her hair is tousled too and Shaun can’t think of anything he has seen that is more beautiful. Then, almost shyly, she presses those lips against his earlobe, nipping it between her teeth before saying,

“Undress me.”

 


	6. Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very happy and (extremely, extremely) belated Valentines Day everyone. Thanks so much for your patience while I dug myself out of a slump.

His fingers are shy and clumsy, fluttering along the slender lines of her ribs. 

Her fingers are eager and clinging, tugging him forward, pressing him closer.

He slips a hand under her sweater, savoring the way she arches into him, her bare skin hot to the touch. Feverish. It stuns him. That Belle can want him this much. That she wants him this _badly._

But oh, she _does._ And there’s nothing like it in the whole world.

He caresses the curve of her back before pulling off her sweater. She laughs when it catches in her hair. He laughs with her. Then he wriggles it off without much more fuss.

She is all pale skin under slants of moonlight and a lovely little mole above the swell of her right breast. He wants to kiss her there, but she seizes his mouth before he does. Then he moans as her tongue coaxes his in the most _delicious_ way.

He wants to be gentle, to be _romantic_ —but Belle is already circling the waist of his jeans, humming when she finds the zipper. 

She is going to be the death of him, and he knows it. 

But dying in bed with a woman he loves doesn’t sound like a bad end.

And that’s when it strikes him.

He loves her.

He _loves_ her.

It’s not the sweeping feeling like they make it out to be in films. Where there are violins and slow motion and everything is perfectly scripted and someone falls into the arms of someone else. Though Shaun _does_ feel like he’s falling. Plummeting really.

Rather, it’s a soft unfolding. Like the sky lightening after the rain. Or an old song playing on the radio. Or when a stone skips perfectly across a pond in summer.

It is all these small and beautiful things and the realisation terrifies him with its immeasurability. Because he has never felt anything quite like this, like all of the torn pieces of his life are coming back together. Slowly but surely. Stitched at every seam with the thread that is Belle.  

It makes him feel weak and strong at the same time. Like he can do anything. Like he shouldn’t dare.

But he can’t think on this too long though. And when she plucks at his jeans and clutches his arse, he can’t think at all. He’ll come back to this later, he knows. There’s no turning back from it. But for now there’s just Belle.

For now there’s just _this._

Somehow they stumble into bed, Shaun pressing her into the mattress as she cards through his hair. He reaches below to tug at her leggings and she slips and slides underneath him until she is free. Down to her bra and knickers now and she is watching him with wild eyes and a wicked smile that says, “ _Come get me_.”

He wants to. So he does. Shoving away his anxious thoughts until there is nothing left but primal urge and sweet affection.

This time, he _does_ press a kiss to her lovely little mole. Then he drags the tip of his tongue to the peaks and valleys of her chest, the delicate ‘v’ of her collarbone, until his hand finds a way to unsnap the front clasp of her bra.

He has seen her little breasts before. Their rosy peaks are puckered in the cool air, so he closes his mouth around one and sucks as Belle makes these mewling little noises that go straight to his cock. She’s liberated him from his most of clothes long before this, and is reaching for the waistband of his boxers.

_No, not yet._

He lets go of her nipple with a satisfying ‘pop’ and gently nips at the the other one before kissing his way down her flat stomach. It’s a slow and reverent path. He pauses often, lifting his eyes to admire the view. She pants and paws at him as he teases her with his tongue and the tips of his fingers. Tickling her too, just above her panty line.

Even from here, he can tell how wet she is. A savory little wet spot spreading right through the lace. She parts her thighs wide for him. So he presses his nose there, taking in that heady, heady scent until he is drunk with it. Then he licks a long and languorous stripe right down the sheer cloth, working and worrying at her core until he could _taste_ how soaked she is.

“Oh...Shaun...please, _please_ …”

He wants to give her _everything_. He does. But he stops, gasping like he is drowning. Because he’s going to come if he doesn’t stop. And he doesn’t want to come unless he is buried inside her. 

“Belle, I’m sorry..I just…I want….”

She rises toward him, a hot and desperate wave rushing towards him. And now he’s beneath her, those lithe and lovely legs locking him in place. The kiss she gives him is searing, carnal. She takes both his arms and pins them to his sides.

“I’m going to take you inside me Shaun,” she whispers roughly. “And I want you to come when you want to. Don’t hold back, love. Let me see you lose yourself.” 

He has no more words to tell her that he already has. But his cock is straining against her now. Painfully. And when she finally springs him free, she croons at how arched and thick and _ready_ he is.

Then when she takes her panties aside, he can see that she is practically glistening. The slickness running between her legs. Then she wraps her fingers around him, running his erect tip along that precious slit so that he knows _exactly_ what he’s done to her.

“Fuck, Belle. Oh, _fuck_.”

Then she sinks down on him, inch by inch, until finally she takes him whole.

Now he knows what it means to feel breathless.

He has never felt so pure.

“Baby, look at me.”

She kisses the tears running down his cheeks and begins to drive into him. Gently at first. Then faster and faster. He moans and writhes and answers with helpless and jerky thrusts. It’s punishment and pleasure. It’s suffering and salvation all rolled into one.

“Shaun...I’m...are you...Oh God, right. there. _Right_ there, love.” She bows and bucks against him. “I’m...I’m coming for you, Shaun. Mmm. Oh, love. Yes. Yes. _Yes._..”

Then she clenches around him and oh, _sweet Jesus_ . There he goes. Diving headfirst into a blissful oblivion. The lovely abyss so wide and so deep that he is fucking _astonished_ that he hasn’t managed to pass out before now.

His balls draw up tight as he releases into her. Copiously. Almost embarrassed yet strangely possessive as he feels the wetness between them overflowing. She clings to him as she collapses, as they both come down from that joyous high. It could have been hours, days, years.

They are wrecked in wild abandon.  

Of course it’s Belle that recovers first. He’s still inside her, actually. He doesn’t want to leave her yet. But she doesn’t seem to mind it. Instead she tucks her head underneath his chin and says, in the most smug and satisfied tone he has ever had the pleasure of hearing,

“Happy Valentines Day, Shaun.”


	7. Interlude 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno, I just wanted these two dorks to keep having lots of sex? And do domestic stuff? *shrugs*

* * *

 

Shaun doesn’t mind that she wakes him up twice in the night. First reaching for him with eager hands, then claiming him with eager kisses.

No, he’s not going to complain. Not when she rolls him above or rolls him below, burying her fingers into his hair while she rides out her pleasure. As his body meets hers, he wonders where his newfound vigor is coming from. Though Belle makes it easy to coax out his enthusiasm.

Very, _very_ easy.

Because every time she’s with him, he feels...lighter. She warms him, like sunlight on a distant shore. Her tenderness both restoring and exposing him all at once. It’s terrifying. Even now, even as he holds her against him, sweat-soaked and yearning, it’s still so terrifying.

But somehow, he can breathe easier for it.

So no, he’s not going to complain. Not even when he wakes up the next morning, worn out and wrung through. But in that wondrously blissful sort of way he hasn’t felt in a long time. The clock next to his bed reads half past noon.

Also, the bed is empty.

He stirs, bleary-eyed, at the space where Belle should have been but isn’t. Anxiety and dread gnaws at him, but before he can be pulled by the undertow, he spots Belle’s clothing still flung carelessly over the floor. Rolling out of bed, he walks with unsteady legs out in the hall where he hears the shower running.

He passes by Daniel’s open door and wonders how long the lad’s been up. He hears some rummaging downstairs in the kitchen and the radio turned on full blast. _Good boy._

He passes by other things too, the off-kilter laundry bins and picture frames and side tables. Blushing hard, as he remembers the harsh breathing and grasping limbs. _And speaking of which..._

The shower is running hot and while Shaun can’t see much through the mist, he hears Belle softly humming some tuneless song. Slipping off his sweats, he pulls aside the curtain and joins her.

It’s magnetic, how they come together, how they fit together. Even though Belle was so wee. She smiles as his arms wrap themselves around her, and his nose presses into that delicate slope of her neck. Gentle nips become feverish kisses and isn’t long before Belle turns around and sighs into him.

They are wet and slick in the most delicious of ways.

“I missed you this morning,” he says. He hopes that it doesn’t come out as a complaint, even though he knows that it is. He does not want to seem needy or possessive. But how does he put into words that aching and empty space he feels when she’s not there?

“Sorry baby,” she says and he shivers at the endearment. The ease with which she says it. She rubs her nose against his. “You looked so knackered...I was hoping to get back before you woke up. Maybe have some breakfast in bed?”

“That sounds nice. But I wasn’t hungry for _that,_ ” he says, grinning.

“Hmm. And just what _are_ you hungry for?”  

He lets his hand answer for him. Questing for, and then rubbing against, that sweet, sweet nub between her legs before dipping his fingers inside her. She gasps, arches and it’s all Shaun can do to not come where he stands as he savors every startled cry.

“I want you inside me Shaun,” she whispers as she comes down from her high. “Now, please.”    

He doesn’t need to be told twice because he is positively _straining_ now, almost breathless from his own arousal. There is an awkward rush of movement before Belle braces herself against the shower wall, pressing that lovely arse into him, practically begging him to just _bury_ himself.

So he does.

Their groans are deep with euphoric relief as he sinks into her. It takes him a moment to gather himself. It’s all still so new...and yet also inevitable. As if it will always be this way. She and him coming together like this, becoming whole and complete.

It doesn’t take him long to finish. His thrusts go from deep and intent to jerky and insistent. She croons and urges him along the way.

“Yes...yes...oh, _darling_ …”

He’s a trembling mess of nerves and spasms by the end of it, which is just as well because Belle holds her to him like like the world will fall away if she doesn’t. And for all he knows, it just might. So he clings to her, tucking her beneath his chin as they rock slowly from side to side.

She hums against his skin. Kissing his collarbone. Softly, sweetly. Bright blue eyes shining. “What is it?” she asks.

“I...it’s...it’s nothing,” he says.

It’s everything.

Luckily, Belle doesn’t seem to mind him being a total nit. Because it’s during that moment of doubt that she kisses his worries away, driving them back into those dusty corners in that mysterious way she does.

It’s also in that moment that Shaun’s stomach chooses to growl. He blinks away his embarrassment as Belle laughs and swats at him.

“C’mon love,” she says. “Let’s clean up...and then we’ll make lunch.”


	8. Easter Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a month late and dollar short for Easter’s, but wanted to give a glimpse of these two have been up to regardless.

* * *

 

 

The park is filled with the earthy smell of green, growing things. Of things slowly coming to life after months of cold sleep. 

Shaun knows the feeling. 

He sits on the bench—on what he’s come to think of as  _ their _ bench—as he waits for Belle to arrive from work. It’s been several days since he’s seen her last, the longest they have been apart. To say that he misses her is an understatement. Though he’s carried on well enough, it feels as though he’s been walking around half empty. Even Daniel took notice. 

“Go on then,” he said, pushing him out the door. “Get some fresh air, why don’t you? You look like a bloody puppy that’s been tossed on the side of the road.” 

On any other day, Shaun would have cuffed him for that. Unfortunately, the lad was all too right. He was absolutely miserable.  _ Pathetically _ so. 

It’s not as though Belle has completely cut him off either. She still calls him. Texts him too, now that’s figured that out. But as much as he looks forward to hearing from her, it just isn’t the same as having her near. 

Christ, when did he become such a walking pity? 

It’s these thoughts that surround him as he sits on the bench, a half dead cigarette in his mouth, as he distantly observes a flock of children nearby. Each one is rolling about with a basket under their arm, hunting for colored eggs under the close watch of their parents. The littlest one has hair the same color as Belle’s, sprouting from her head in two pigtails. 

It made him wonder vaguely what their own children would look like. Then he catches himself.  _ Good God. He really needed to reign himself in.  
_

“Shaun?” 

He glances up. 

And the bottom of his stomach drops out.

“Katy.”

She looks very much the same since the last time they saw one another. Since Daz. There is still a wariness about her though. An uncertainty.

Truthfully, it’s mutual.

“I didn’t hear you were in town,” says Shaun. 

In fact, Katy hadn’t been in town since she left for uni. With the exception of Daz’ passing of course. 

“Yeah,” she says, tucking a lock behind her ear. “Just came in to see the folks, you know. Easter and all.” 

Shaun nods, though he knows her parents often leave on holiday to see her and not the other way around. 

“Mind if I sit?” 

Shaun moves aside. “Yeah. Sure.” 

There is a frozen moment where neither of them say anything. An empty space that neither of them knows how to fill. 

“So...how are things?” It’s a poor attempt at conversation, Shaun knows. And fairly ironic, given that he was once able to tell Katy anything and everything at one point. But Katy just smiles at him. A touch of that old understanding shading her features. 

“Things are good. Just got a promotion.” 

It doesn’t really surprise him. But he’s happy for her nonetheless.

“That’s good to hear.” 

“And you? How have things been since…? And Daniel? Is he good?”

“Aye. We’re both managing. There’s been more good days than bad.” 

“That’s good to hear.” 

She seems to be waiting for him to say something else. And it confuses him as to what that might be. When he doesn’t say anything more, she frets and fidgets in her seat. It makes him nervous. “Look, Shaun...I…I just wanted to say...” 

“Hi baby.” 

Shaun feels a soft kiss on his cheek and looks up to see Belle. She reaches for his hand, the mangled one, her delicate fingers soothing his anxiety. Her touch anchoring him to the here and now. 

“Katy,” he says, “This is Belle. Belle, Katy.” 

They shake each other’s hands. Belle regarding Katy warmly. "It's nice to finally meet! Shaun’s told me all about you.” 

“Has he?” 

He has. In his own way. In the darkest part of the nights when they lay together, their bodies closely entwined, as he whispered the pieces of his past into the crook of her neck. Pieces like the girl, the only girl aside from Belle, who he has ever claimed to love. 

Even so, Shaun has not given her the whole truth. Though she didn’t push or prod him for it, either. And for that he is grateful. 

It isn’t so much that he is trying to hide the ugliness of it all. 

It’s more that he isn’t ready to expose a wound that never quite healed. 

“I’m famished,” says Belle. “Would you like to join us for a drink? There’s a pub ‘round the corner.”

It’s the same pub they went to the night they met on Christmas Eve. 

Katy looks as though she’s lost the script. “Oh! Well...I, er...”

“Yeah come join us,” says Shaun. He’s not entirely sure what makes him say it. Just a bone deep feeling that knows it’s the right thing to do. “I think you’d like it.”

“Pretty please?” Belle adds. 

After a moment, Katy offers a shy smile. “Well...all right then.” 

The three of them set off. Katy on one side and Belle on the other, head resting on his shoulder. And, for whatever reason, Shaun sees a fleeting image of himself, years ago, of this exact road and how a trio of a different sort walked over its cobblestones. Their heads wild and their hearts free. 

It’s funny, he thinks with a contented smile. How time could change everything….and yet nothing at all. 


End file.
